When I was little my Mom always called instructions “destructions”… the nerdy child I was spent years correcting her until I finally got the joke. From then on I just rolled my eyes every time because man, that’s a repetitive joke in a family that loves flatpack.
This week I moved into my new house with my university friendlings Nik and Danks. Since I left Lincoln and moved home for a year both myself and Danks have been nurturing our love of real ales (I’m about a year ahead of him in newbie beer geek terms). We went out for a few drinks on one of the my first night’s back and whilst myself and Danks waxed lyrical about craft beer, Nik and Jamie compared various versions of a Long Island Iced Tea around Lincoln.
Skip a few days and Dank and I find ourselves in a home brew shop buying Baby’s First Brew Kit. After a lot of confusing, peering at pieces of papers, Googling things and realising we don’t have a measuring jug we (hopefully) followed the instructions and now have our very own bitter fermenting in the living room cupboard.
Now we’ve just got to wait. Even before our first brew is finished I can’t help but fantasizing about choosing hops and malts and doing the whole thing from scratch.